


Broken Promises

by fandom_susceptible



Series: The Remnants of Praxus [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: War for Cybertron
Genre: Bartender Jazz, Club Owner Jazz, Cop Prowl, DJ Jazz, Don't worry Prowl isn't busting him, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Multi, One Night Stands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Transformer Sparklings, Unrequited Crush, Warnings May Change, prewar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_susceptible/pseuds/fandom_susceptible
Summary: Prowl and Barricade's team were dispatched to Polyhex tracking a criminal, who they suspect has taken cover at the famous Planet Cybertron nightclub.  They work with the owner, Jazz, to take the mech into custody, and when the case is closed, they're afforded time off and free nights at the club.Unfortunately for Prowl, training didn't cover how to handle feelings of the spark, and he's not about to turn to his teammates when he develops a crush on Jazz.  One night shortly before they return to Praxus, Jazz comes to him, smooth as ever, and offers him a night of fun - an offer he takes as an opportunity to confess.  But the next morning, Jazz doesn't seem to remember him, and Prowl returns to Praxus alone, colder than ever.But one-night stands can have long-reaching consequences, and Prowl's promising career is about to be shattered.





	1. Meeting Jazz

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post https://rammy-sky.tumblr.com/post/165703186875/rammy-sky-i-just-want-to-talk-a-little-about on tumblr. Hope you enjoy, Rammy!

     "You all have your assignments." Prowl said briskly as his team of five transformed outside Planet Cybertron. "Barricade, with me.  The rest of you, casual.  This 'Jazz' might not be as well-meaning as he claims."

     "We know the drill, Prowl." Barricade rolled his optics. "Let's move, boys."

     The five undercover Praxian Enforcers - only two of whom, Prowl and Barricade, were full Praxian frame-types, for anonymity's sake - each strolled into the club separately.  Prowl and Barricade headed straight for the counter, where they met with a black and white bartender with a flashy blue visor and a friendly smirk. "What can I do for you mecha?" The Polyhexian asked, setting aside the cube he'd been cleaning.

     "We're here to speak with the owner." Prowl said stiffly.

     The bartender's smirk widened and he spread his hands. "Owner, manager, bartender, DJ, waiter, buymech - I do it all.  Lemme guess, you're the cops Praxus sent to get hold of Swindle, right?"

     Prowl and Barricade's door wings twitched with surprise and they exchanged glances.

     The bartender - owner laughed at them. "C'mon, mech, nobody talks like 'at in a nightclub unless they got legal business." He leaned over the bar and grinned. "'Sides, hardly anybody comes in here in the middle of th' afternoon if it idn't for legal business, either.  Those three with you?" He nodded toward their teammates.

     Barricade stiffened, but Prowl's optics sharpened with interest and he nodded shortly.  There was little use in arguing with the clever mech at this point. "Affirmative."

     "Say 'yes', 'yeah', 'sure thing', 'you bet', anything but 'affirmative', mech, ya make me feel like I'm 'bout to be arrested.  Ain't gonna he'p you keep yo' cover either." The mech said, sounding amused. "Name's Jazz.  You mecha?" He offered a hand to shake.

     Prowl took it, still surprised, and surprised further by the strength and confidence in the other mech's handshake. "Prowl." He said slowly.

     Barricade shook his hand too. "Barricade.  Our teammates over there are Copperhead, Rundown, and Speedtrap.  So you're the one who gave us the tip, huh?"

     Jazz nodded. "Sure am.  Look, let me get a few things straight for you mecha.  This ain't Praxus.  Things work differently in Polyhex.  I don't necessarily have any objection to what Swindle's doin' - as in, what he's sellin'.  My problem is the prices he's sellin' at and the kind of business he's bringin' to my place.  Planet Cybertron's a respectable place, for Polyhex." He pointed at them. "I help you, you mecha don't pry into my business."

     Prowl's optics sharpened. "Is there a reason to?" He asked pointedly.

     The bartender gave him a clever smirk. "Not here.  But your laws are different.  Point is, my business is up top for Polyhex, an' I don't need no high and mighty Praxians comin' in with their extra morals to cloud the energon.  Swindle broke the law in your place an' he's annoyin' the Pit out of me.  But drug deals just get prison time, not execution, so I'm perfectly happy to sell him out."

     Prowl couldn't find a single sign of untruth in the mech.  He extended his hand again and Jazz's smirk widened as he took it and they shook on it. "Then I am pleased to work with you.  We will require more proof of identification and the transactions in Praxus to have his case stand in trial."

     "Which is why they sent us.  They seem to think Prowl's our best detective." Barricade said, a little snidely.  Prowl ignored it - his partner was a moody one.

     Jazz nodded speculatively. "I can help wi' dat too.  Welcome to Polyhex, mecha." He slid them both a cube with a grin. "Don't worry, standard grade for the police 'less ya ask me otherwise.  On the house." He winked at them. "Just get Swindle out of my territory and you'll drink here for free for life, hey mecha?" He winked at them. "I got work to do.  Come talk to me tonight when the evenin' crowd filters in, yeah?" He waved and sauntered off.

     "Well, we have a contact." Barricade said, blinking and shrugging.

     Prowl shook himself and returned his focus from the handsome bartender to his partner. "Indeed we do." He said, his voice still calm and professional. "Fetch the team.  We'll get better settled at the hotel and come back this evening."

     Barricade gave him an irritated look. "I'm your partner, not your subordinate." He said pointedly, but he went to fetch their teammates anyway.  The five left in peace, unnoticed by any but Jazz, and returned to their respective hotel rooms to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Polyhex is basically robot Vegas, with elements of India and underground.

     That had been the first time Prowl had met Jazz.  Over the next few weeks Swindle proved . . . difficult to capture.  Jazz's advice and observation were helpful, but Prowl found himself increasingly irritated with the case.  The bartender had finally offered to meet the officers off-premises to discuss a new possible course of action, and, with pressure from his teammates and a growing frustration, Prowl had reluctantly agreed.

     Which was how he found himself in a hole in the wall - literally, as Polyhex was underground - diner with Barricade, awaiting Jazz's entrance.  Speedtrap, Rundown, and Copperhead had been dispatched to do some investigating of their own, though they had little hope of finding anything new.  Barricade shifted for the tenth time in five minutes and Prowl shot him an irritated look.

     His partner rolled his optics. "Prowl, lighten up.  We're busting a drug dealer in Polyhex, not a serial killer.  Might as well have some fun while we're here." He took a sip of his energon.

     Prowl grunted, scanning the room again for Jazz. "I am here to do my job, Barricade.  Nothing more."

     He could feel Barricade's amused look. "For a mech everyone says was the most rebellious CC officer they'd ever seen, you're annoyingly by-the-book."

     Prowl didn't reply.  He refused to explain to a forged mech how degrading it was to be treated as a drone, how any sort of initiative was seen as rebellion, how he had finally snapped.  No one else had explained it to Barricade when the cadet graduated with honors and joined the team.  He felt no need to inform his new partner of his history.

     Barricade grunted with defeat when he wasn't answered and took another sip of his energon. "You can be a real pain in the aft, you know that?"

     Prowl again didn't reply. "He's arrived."

     Sure enough, Jazz sauntered up to their table and somehow managed a 'graceful flop' into the chair opposite them, flashing them a grin. "Hey, mechs, how's it goin'?"

     "Pretty good if my partner could get that stick out of his aft." Barricade deadpanned.

     Prowl shot him a look and replied firmly, "'It' would be going better if we could dispense with the social amenities and simply get down to business."

     Jazz snorted. "Okay, point taken." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I'm gonna talk like this for a minute, so he thinks this is the real plan.  He probably don't have ears here, but if he does, this'll fool 'em.  I'll say the real plan at normal volume so he thinks that's the decoy that we wanted him to hear."

     That . . . was actually rather clever, though Prowl was uncertain how Swindle would justify that thought process.  But what they knew of both Jazz and Swindle indicated that the bartender knew Swindle's mind well, even if he didn't agree with it. "That seems a . . . intelligent course of action." He replied in the same tone and Barricade gave a snort of surprise at the compliment.

     Jazz just grinned at him. "I'd hoped you'd see it that way.  Now the simplest explanation is usually the right one.  I'm gonna throw in some random proverbs for if someone does hear.  All's fair in love and profit, as we say around here, but Swindle's profit is cutting in on mine, and I'm startin' to get a bit annoyed about it.  The strong arm of the law is an effective deterrent for cowards like him."

     Then he sat back, letting his voice fall back to its natural volume and cadence.  Prowl realized he'd been leaning forward as well and straightened, flicking his door wings, a brief glance at Barricade assuring him that his partner had done the same.  Jazz didn't comment. "So you mechs need a way to get close to Swindle, but he's ID'd your team and none of you can get in since you missed him that one head-on assault."

     That was an annoying stain on the mission record.  Prowl comforted himself with the fact that it had been Barricade's rush that had failed them.  He had wanted to hang back to get more information on possible escape routes first. 

     "What you need is someone who can get in close to him and restrain him for you to get there." Jazz continued.

     "And sufficient evidence to convict him." Prowl said, annoyed.

     Jazz quirked an optic ridge at him visibly behind his visor.  His ever-present smirk widened. "I can do that.  I can do both of those things - with a little compensation.  Words and observation were one thing, but I'd be puttin' myself at actual risk here.  I can't just do that out of hand."

     Prowl's annoyance rose again at his wheedling tone. "Assisting to enforce the laws of Cybertron and keep the planet from collapsing into anarchy is not enough reward for you?"

     Jazz laughed at him openly. "I'm a Polyhexian, sweetspark." He leaned forward and held out a hand, rubbing digits together. "Somethin' for somethin'.  When it was just talk, look, an' you'd take him away, I was all good.  But now we're talkin' me riskin' my spark with his security to get in and get whatever he's got in storage, and him to boot?  I don't think so, mech.  You better make this worth my while.  I think we can make a deal for that, though." He sat back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

     Prowl bristled a bit but restrained himself. "And what, pray tell, do you demand?" He asked pointedly.

     "I'm not demandin'!" Jazz laughed easily. "Call it a business transaction.  I want to talk to someone from Shockwave's Institute.  With your guarantee that the conversation will remain in confidence."

     Even Barricade stiffened a bit at that as they looked at the bar owner intently. "Why do you want to talk to someone at the Institute?" Barricade asked warily.

     "Because I'm curious." Jazz smirked.

     "And the demand of full confidence?" Prowl asked, frowning deeply.

     "I'm curious about things not everyone would be okay with a random bar owner knowin'." Jazz said, dodging slightly again, and then gave them a sly smirk. "All I ask is the chance to talk to someone.  Beyond that you don't have to guarantee me anything.  And I'll help you out.  I can guarantee you'll get your results in two days if you let me work my magic with legal clearance.  'Course I still need your assurance I can do whatever I'm gonna do without suffering any consequences of my own."

     Prowl and Barricade exchanged a glance and Prowl made an executive decision. "Agreed, but your conversation must be monitored from outside the room to ensure the safety of the scientist.  In addition you are authorized to do anything that is necessary to bring Swindle and his goods to justice, only so long as you hold this number." He pinged it to Jazz's comm signal. "It will be changed when our business is concluded or if you violate the terms of this agreement.  You will not use it for anything but apprehending Swindle."

     Jazz chuckled indulgently. "Sure thing, mech.  You know you're sexy as frag when you're pissed?" He got up and stretched, smirking at Prowl's slight outrage and Barricade's shock. "Come to the bar two nights from now.  I'll have 'em in the basement." He waved and sauntered out.

     Prowl's door wings quivered with irritation and he snapped his empty cube back onto the table with unnecessary force.  Barricade shot him a skeptical look. "Prowl, a mech just flirted with you, and you're pissed about it?"

     "This was intended as  _business_ , Barricade.  He overstepped." Prowl growled.

     "Which reminds me.  What the Pit was that?" Barricade demanded, getting up from the table to follow him out. "Since when do we make deals with common criminals?  Prowl, it was one thing when we were just using intel we could write off as anonymous.  This is a whole different lob game.  What were you thinking?  Do you know how dangerous this is?  How much trouble we could get in for even  _considering_ this let alone acting on it - we're  _police_ , we're not above the law!" He hissed it all too quietly for anyone to hear, as they were moving quickly through the tunnels.

     Prowl twitched his door wings, hard expression not changing. "Sometimes to uphold the law one must be willing to stoop down and pick it up."

     Barricade stopped dead and stared at him for a minute, only speeding up to rejoin him when Prowl was almost out of sight. "You're insane."

     A tiny smirk pulled at Prowl's mouth. "You have no idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz follows through, and proves there's much more to him and his 'bar' than meets the eye.

  Two days later at the 'appointed' time, Prowl and his team reported to Jazz's club again, each at least an hour apart.  Prowl entered last, his crew given explicit orders not to act without him.  Fortunately, they had listened.  Jazz, to his chagrin, was not easily located in the crowd.  Apparently, wings of any kind were not usual in Polyhex, as his doors kept getting unapologetically bumped and groped; he just thanked Primus Barricade clearly hadn't been thrown out for retaliating such treatment yet.

    In his increasing annoyance, he honestly missed the announcement from the stage in the bar until he recognized the voice taking them over and his gaze snapped up to Jazz.  The black and white Polyhexian laughed as he waved a greeting to his clearly adoring fans. "How you all doin' tonight?!" He called, prompting cheers to rise up from the crowd and making Prowl and Barricade both wince at opposite sides of the club. "Hey, mecha, old fans and new friends, welcome to Planet Cybertron.  I'm your host, the name's Jazz.  Bar's to your right, dance floor's to the left and the stage, of course, is up here.  As usual I wanna remind any new guests about the panic rooms on the inner walls; ask any member of the staff and they'll take you in there where you can rest from the noise or get away from some unwanted attention."

     Prowl glanced around and did indeed notice the discreet doors nestled in the sides of the building.  He'd thought they led to offices, but when one opened it was clear they led to a hallway, one that doubtless led to the aforementioned panic rooms.  His respect for Jazz was rising by the moment, despite being somewhat jilted.  They hadn't set up a specific deadline, he supposed.

     "Now for just this one night, I got the DJ and the Music Meister from Beat the Heat across town to come in for a battle of the bands, everybody please welcome Blaster and Waspinator!" Jazz called out, prompting another set of cheers as an insectile beastformer made his way onto stage, carrying an orange tapedeck that soon transformed and resolved itself into a clearly symbiotic host mech who waved cheerfully with his partner- presumably Blaster to the insect's Waspinator.

     "And as usual of course, a big hand for our favorite DJ, Sky-Byte!" 

    This was another beastformer, perhaps surprisingly, a clearly aquatic- or perhaps amphibious?- blue and gray mech who waved with a good-natured grin to his adoring public.  Prowl hunched his door wings slightly, distinctly uncomfortable- honestly the ruckus was starting to border on pain.  He knew his door wings were quite sensitive, even by Praxian standards, and he wondered how Barricade was faring.

     "Now that you all know everybody whaddaya say we get this party started!" Jazz shouted.

     Another set of cheers erupted from the crowd and Prowl winced openly.  Jazz certainly knew how to play a crowd!

     A hand on his arm surprised him and he looked up to see a bouncer with a subtle band around his arm to indicate he was staff smiling cautiously at him as he drew back. "Hey.  If you need to get out of the noise I can get you to a panic room.  Jazz'll come in to check on you himself after the battle's over- they don't usually take long for each session."

     Prowl wanted to say it wasn't necessary, but then again, it might get him to see Jazz a bit quicker, which would improve the efficiency of their mission, so he nodded, letting the bouncer guide him back into a panic room.  The walls were evidently soundproofed, as in the hall alone he could hardly feel the vibrations from the pumping music and crowds from both sides, but once he was let into the panic room, there was no sound at all to bother him.

     "You need someone to stay with you?" The bouncer offered.

     Prowl twitched his door wings and shook his helm. "No.  The silence will be better for now, thank you."

     The bouncer nodded. "Let me know if you need anything.  I'll be in the hall somewhere."

     That was clearly standard procedure, as he'd seen another bouncer sitting on a bench in the hall by a closed up panic room as they entered.  Prowl hummed thoughtfully and shut the door for privacy to have a look around.  These panic rooms were designed quite well, really; there was a Praxian-styled berth with extra fluffy blankets and pillows for their door wings and back, and the ability to let out portions of the bottom to make room for said wings.  He was willing to bet that was specific to this room, and that other rooms were optimized for particular frame types as well.  In the corner there was an unobtrusive boombox which, upon investigation, had a set of tapes of various types of soothing music beside it.  A console and desk off to the side offered the ability to call a friend.  There were also a few comfortable chairs, and a counter and cabinets full of comfort snack foods that could be stored for long periods. Jazz seemed to have thought of everything.

     Now to just wait for the mech to come back to it so they could discuss the Swindle case.  Prowl paced in the room, investigating further, and found extra reading materials and even craft products stored in other cabinets throughout the room.  What else could a mech need to calm down in a place like this?  He picked up one of the datapads and was pleasantly surprised to find actual news articles contained therein, and he took advantage.  Polyhexian news was still relevant news, after all, since he was in the city.

     It didn't seem that long after he began reading that there was a gentle beep from the door, slowly increasing in volume until Prowl looked up at it.  He quickly registered that it was a request for entry and automatically called "Come!  in.  Come in!" He internally swore at his malfunctioning voice box and wondered why it had cracked.

     Jazz's bright grin greeted him as he came in. "Thought this might happen, was kinda bankin' on it actually.  Ya come in here because ya figured this was my plan or because you actually needed it?" He asked, shutting the door as he came inside and flopped in a chair beside Prowl.

     Prowl quirked an optic ridge. "You gambled that I would need to use the panic room?"

     "You or your partner.  Was hopin' it'd be you." Jazz grinned at him. "That's why I invited Waspinator and Blaster over tonight.  Lots of extra noise, lots of distraction.  You come in here, I can sneak you down to interrogate Swindle and nobody'll ever notice.  I had backup plans if you didn't need it, of course, like just plain talking, but this was simple and efficient- and you're all about efficiency, aren't you Prowl?"

     "Indeed." Prowl replied blandly.

     Jazz's grin faded to a speculative smirk. "Are you always like that?"

     "Like what?" Prowl's tone sharpened by the same degrees that Jazz's had softened.

     The Polyhexian raised his hands in surrender. "Never mind.  Let's just go see Swindle.  As promised, I got him."

     "My team is out on the floor." Prowl replied warily.

    Jazz shrugged. "So's mine.  I took a chance on you, mech, and you gave me that little passcode.  You gonna tell me you don't trust me now?"

     He was right, of course.  Prowl's hesitance was ridiculous.  The Enforcer corrected his own posture and shook his helm. "No. It is merely procedure."

     "You sure like that word up Praxus way, don't you?" Jazz drawled and got up. "Sure, mech.  You can wait until your partner takes the hint and asks for a panic room, risk going back out on the floor and collecting 'em- because I'm not havin' my bouncers waste their time from genuinely helpin' bots and I'm too noticeable here- or you and me can head on down to Swindle now and you can verify and get things movin' as much as you can alone.  Choice is up to you and I'm open to suggestions."

     Prowl considered it, but however he spun it, Jazz seemed to be right. His battle computer indicated a very low probability of Jazz being truly untrustworthy, though it was clear he did have ulterior motives.  But the probabilities also said that his ulterior motive was most likely the one he had already indicated- speaking to someone at Jhiaxus Academy.  Perhaps he could connect the mech directly with Tumbler if he proved genuine.  

     Eventually, he nodded. "I will accompany you down to Swindle now."

     "Good.  I was about to have to walk out on you to entertain the crowd.  But if I say I'm takin' you back to your hotel, the staff'll cover for me.  Can I touch you?" Jazz asked, hand halfway extended as if to do so already.

    Prowl froze midstep towards the door. "Pardon?"

    "Can I touch you?" Jazz repeated. "I like to give an upset mech a little extra grounding, but if you don't wanna be touched, I won't."

    Prowl hesitated and told himself it was to keep a cover. "You may.  Do not touch my door wings."

     Jazz snorted. "I'm guidin' an upset mech, not fondlin' a stranger.  Arms and lower back okay?"

     Wait, he knew the implications of touching door wings?  That was . . .  unexpected, though not unpleasant.  Prowl nodded his assent and Jazz's hand came to rest on his lower back as the club owner let them out of the panic room.

      "This-a way." Jazz drawled to him and beckoned the bouncer who'd let Prowl in. "I'm gonna take our friend here home.  Cover for me, eh?"

     "Yes sir." The bouncer agreed with a smile and darted back out of the hall, empty now.

     "C'mon, let's get down there quick." Jazz stopped touching him and darted ahead, and Prowl followed, both of them darting into a lift at the end of the hall and Jazz typing in a code that sent them down instead of up.

     On the wait, even Prowl noticed the slightly uncomfortable nature of the silence, though he couldn't pinpoint the reason for it. "This place is remarkably well-designed." He commented to break it.

    Jazz brightened noticeably. "Isn' it?  When I first got out of college I never thought I'd make it this far.  Pit, I nearly bankrupted right out of the business with all my hires and big dreams about protectin' mecha on the club scene."

    "You went to college?" Prowl interrupted in mild surprise.

    Jazz flashed him that damned grin. "Sure I did, Sparkles.  Graduated with business and music degrees, both; I wanted to do this . . ." He gestured around at the building. "Since I was a youngling and a friend of mine got raped and another was nearly killed going to the normal clubs around here." He shook his helm with a sigh as Prowl stiffened at the normalcy with which he said that. "I wanted to make sure nothing like that happened again- and sure I can't stop it, and maybe I do sell some things I shouldn't, but what I sell gets used on yourself, not a stranger, and that kind of drug is a self-correcting problem.  You give 'em what they want, eventually, they'll OD.  Problem solved, no drug rings, no undue violence." Then he grinned sharply again. "Not that I should be tellin' an Enforcer that, huh?"

     Prowl fought with himself for a moment before replying blandly, "Not really." He found himself amused by Jazz's casual nature and yet charmed by how sincerely he wanted to help. "I'll strike it from the record for getting us Swindle."

     Jazz laughed and it was intoxicating, prompting an open smile from Prowl before the Polyhexian continued, the lift slowing down. "Anyway, I got this place when some noble's sparkling was visiting, got drugged at the bar.  One of my bouncers noticed and got 'em into a panic room, all the extra work paid off, ya know?  They got their creators to pay me back, and they bought me this place, gave me everything I needed to set it up just how I wanted it.  There's a side for minors without the engex on the other side of the hall, towards the college tunnels." The lift stopped. "But, enough about my business; you can always come back later." He winked suggestively with his visor. "Let's talk about your business." He pressed the button.

    The lift opened directly to a view of Swindle, and Prowl almost shook his helm at the showmanship despite being impressed with Jazz.  Swindle was honestly handcuffed by both wrists and ankles to a chair- wait, were those bondage cuffs?  At least they hadn't been stolen from an officer, Prowl supposed, and it seemed the quick release functions had been broken. 

     Jazz breezed past him and turned on a console to Swindle's left.  Prowl followed him, ignoring the drug seller's sullen glare.  Jazz stepped back with a flourish, revealing all the necessary documentation to get Swindle put away.

    "I must admit I am impressed." Prowl mused, stepping back to survey it all.

     Jazz shrugged. "I had good motivation.  So, this'll be enough?"

     "More than." Prowl agreed. "Just allow me to get the necessary paperwork done and give us time to deliver Swindle into custody, and then we'll arrange your payment."

     "You don't need to pay me anything.  Just get me that little chat and we'll call it even." Jazz insisted.

     Prowl studied him with interest. "You seem to have yourself set up quite nicely here, Jazz.  What could you need a conversation with . . . them for?"

     "That's my business." Jazz said with uncharacteristic steel in his voice. "You do your job, I'll do mine, and we'll both walk away happy.  Deal?"

     How much harm could a controlled conversation with this mech do?  Prowl doubted it would be much.  Perhaps it would even do good- an antidote for some date rape drug to use in his club or to sell that he wanted consultation on making.  So Prowl nodded. "Very well." He glanced at Swindle. "We'll have you processed by morning, Swindle.  You won't be leaving my sight until then." He sighed slightly and removed the convict's gag. "What happened?  You were so close to the end of your probation.  You could have gotten out forever."

     Swindle chuckled humorlessly. "Nobody gets out forever, Prowl.  I'd have been busted for something eventually, just to be busted, that's how the law works towards mechs like us."

     Prowl was acutely aware of Jazz listening, but he pressed on. "That isn't how it's supposed to work.  I would have testified for you if you had stayed with your probation.  I would have done something."

     "I know you would, Prowl." Swindle huffed. "But your job's your job, right?  Same goes for me." He laughed without emotion. "We've just got different jobs.  Besides, no one just gets out.  Not even you."

     Prowl stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

     Swindle grinned viciously at him. "Go ahead, then.  Lie to your partner, to your little friends here.  Doesn't change who you are, what you've done."  

     "I have done nothing wrong." Prowl argued, standing up abruptly, door wings arching with tension. "You are the one lying here."

     Swindle just kept grinning. "Oh you know I'm a liar.  But not this time."

     Prowl narrowed his optics. "You can't help it.  You know this isn't true."

     "Keep telling yourself that."

     Prowl had to just walk away, further into the basement, not looking at Jazz, thanking Primus Barricade hadn't heard any of that, and hoping the Polyhexian wouldn't question him.  Fortunately, Jazz didn't; he didn't even follow.


End file.
